


Not Enough

by WinterTeaCupBook



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Clubbing, Dark Arts Expert!Draco, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Outdoor Sex, Post-Hogwarts, Public Sex, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Swearing, Voyeurism, auror!Harry, bisexual!harry, implied bottom!harry, top!draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 02:32:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18085733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterTeaCupBook/pseuds/WinterTeaCupBook
Summary: Harry had spent the years following the war believing Malfoy would never go for 'his sort', untilThe Incidentchanged everything.





	Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

> A massive thank you to Scarshavestories for the support, encouragement and amazing beta skills - you are truly exceptional and I've been so lucky to have the opportunity to work with you on this fic. 
> 
> To Gracerene, thank you so much for the inspiring prompt. I've been such a huge fan of your writing and it's been an absolute pleasure creating this story.

\-----

  


_The Incident,_ as Harry later called it, happened on what had looked to be a very usual night out. Harry had been waiting for a drink at the bar, eyes scanning the crowd, when he’d seen him. It was packed, a typical Saturday night, and there were men in various stages of undress roaming around the muggle club. The bodies on the dance floor were grinding, pulsing and moving to the music and Harry enjoyed watching the coordinated yet totally chaotic waves of motion. The dance floor was a living, breathing thing – a beast that consumed the people in the room, growing and adding to its strength and size, only to entice more.

Initially, it was the glowing white blonde hair that caught Harry’s attention, and with a transparent black shirt tight across his broad shoulders Malfoy certainly stood out amongst the crowd. Harry’s gaze was completely fixated on Malfoy as he neared the edge of the dancefloor, bewitched as he sensually swayed to the deep base, his hips grinding into the man in front of him. The man’s head was thrown back in ecstasy as Malfoy seduced him, his hands wandering over his chest. Harry’s brain must have short circuited, because before he knew it he had left the bar and moved towards them.

Later he would wonder what the _fuck_ was wrong with him, but at the time all he felt was pure fucking _want_. Harry pushed through the crowd of dancing, sweaty bodies but the closer he got, the further away they seemed. Harry watched as Malfoy lowered his mouth to the man’s ear, and after a quick nod they left the crowd and walked towards the back of the club. Harry had to fight his way around the dancefloor, before he was able to subtly follow them through a doorway, down a corridor and past the toilets. He hesitated as the man led Malfoy hand-in-hand out the back door and into the night.

Alone in the dim corridor, Harry walked slowly towards the exit, watching the door gradually close and click shut. Stepping up to the door he rested his hand against the wood grain. A strange mix of desire and curiosity burned through his stomach, spreading up into his chest and tightening around his throat. Steeling himself against what he might see outside, he cast a disillusionment charm, quietly opened the door and slipped out into the night.

_The Incident_ , was one of those memories forever burned into Harry’s brain. He’d never need a pensive to be able to recall any particular detail, nor would he ever question what he saw. The scene was one of the most erotic, filthiest things he had ever witnessed.

Once Harry had slowly opened the door to the club, and quietly, so very quietly, closed it, he looked around the dark alleyway. For the centre of London it was broad, but nonetheless gloomy. With no nearby lampposts or lights to see by, it was the perfect spot to slip out of a club in the middle of the night for a sordid deed.

As his eyes grew accustomed to the murky backstreet, Harry heard faint murmurs coming from the night. He followed the sound of the muttering voices and as he drew closer, he heard the first of many _groans_.

Harry eventually approached two figures against the far side of the alley, and when he realised exactly what he was looking at he covered his mouth, fearing a gasp might escape into the night and give away his position. He carefully moved, stopping part way along the alley, ensuring he could clearly see both figures across the alleyway.

Malfoy had his trousers sitting tightly under his arse, his pale cheeks flexing and tightening as he fucked into the other man who _– bloody hell –_ just leaned against the brick wall and fucking _took it_. His elbows were folded against the wall, his head banging into his arms on every thrust. Malfoy’s hands gripped the unknown man’s hips, and he was leaning back and looking down at their joined bodies.

Malfoy’s translucent shirt was unbuttoned, hanging open to expose his chest and stomach. Harry could catch glimpses of pale skin as he moved, fluorescent white in the darkness. The other man had his shirt completely removed and pants pooling at his ankles. Harry noticed his appearance for the first time and was momentarily stunned. He was short and slim, with brown hair and light stubble, not the usual type Harry would see Malfoy with, and Harry felt so completely fascinated in the dynamic between the two of them. Malfoy, so tall and broad, towered over the smaller man as he continued to slam into him.

Captivated in the contrast between the two men, Harry focused back on Malfoy’s arse, so pale in the night, the far-off light reflecting off the muscles as they flexed, his hips pumping. Two dimples showed at the base of his spine every time the muscles tightened and hips thrust forward. Harry, breathing heavily through his nose, moved one hand from his mouth to press hard against his groin and suppressed a whine as he made contact. Unable to resist, he started thrusting lightly into his palm.

Pure arousal coursed through Harry’s body as Malfoy uttered a groan and somehow thrust harder, one arm wrapping around the man in front of him, the other sneaking its way from hip to groin. His body curved around the shorter man, covering every inch with his muscular frame. Harry watched as Malfoy’s head fell to suck at the base of the man’s neck, his arm working to wank his cock.

Leaning on the wall behind him for support, Harry quickly unzipped his jeans, thanking his past self for choosing not to wear his usual tight trousers. He took himself in hand, his eyes glued to Malfoy’s arm, which Harry assumed was wanking the guy in front of him absolutely _fucking raw_.

He quickened his own hand, lost in the scene in front of him. He focused again on Malfoy’s tightening, pumping and unrelenting arse, the sounds of groans and mumbled pleads filling his head. Quickly spiralling out of control, Harry ground his teeth into the hand still covering his mouth, his come splashing the stone ground as his orgasm rushed through him. Breathing heavily, he fell back against the wall and continued to watch as the smaller man and Malfoy came in quick succession, the sounds of their panting loud in the darkness.

Harry left the back alley distracted and completely lost in what he had seen and experienced. He had found it difficult to fully focus on apparating home and preparing for bed was a blur. Later, while attempting to sleep, he felt a pang of regret at not having been able to see Malfoy’s face as he orgasmed.

  


\-----

  


Malfoy had been in and out of the society pages of the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly for over a year, with some celebrity or other on his arm. Usually a professional athlete, actor or model, sometimes they were wizards and sometimes muggles. The latest had appeared in Witch Weekly, a photo of Malfoy and a tall tanned professional quidditch player; broad shouldered with dark stubble and a man bun. Malfoy had his arm slung low around the man’s hips as they laughed, heads close and so nauseatingly intimate that Harry had growled at the photo before it promptly burst into flames.

Malfoy was constantly photographed with a certain type. The Daily Prophet hadn’t missed it, running a whole section a few months earlier on the different men he’d been seen with. Speculating on their similarities, when he’d settle down, outlining the advantages of certain dates over others or on one occasion snapping a picture of him in a jewellery store. He’d been featured regularly and not just in the society pages. _‘Reformed Death Eater saves the day’_ , _‘Malfoy heir solves Ministry case’_ and _‘Malfoy to win top award’_ were some headlines that had appeared in the last month, all highlighting how much he had achieved for the wizarding world since the war. Viewing photo after photo of Malfoy with tall, muscular, strongly built men had Harry ripping the paper into tiny pieces lest his magic lash out again and set the house on fire.

Harry hadn’t been in a relationship in over 18 months. The blind dates his friends had set up hadn’t counted – they’d always ended in disaster. Ron would set him up with a woman he’d meet though working at the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and Hermione would find men she’d met at the law and ethics department at the Ministry. Problem was, they both had terrible taste, other than in each other of course. Harry was sick of it.

Not much had changed since Harry had left Hogwarts. He was still shorter than average, and had remained slim. Auror training hadn’t helped him buff up at all. In fact, his lanky appearance seemed to encourage his instructors to push him further and train him harder. They had set difficult scenarios during combat drills and defense, but despite the extra training Harry stayed slim. It had worked to his advantage when he played the odd quidditch game, but it frustrated him the other 99% of the time.

Malfoy, however, _had_ changed. And not in the way Harry was expecting. He was much taller, and although he had an idle job at the ministry as a top ranked Dark Arts consultant, unlike Harry, he had filled out. He was tall, broad shouldered and athletic. And to top it all off he had gone and become bloody _nice_. Malfoy got along well with Harry’s extended group of friends and even went out with them for the weekly pub night. Harry hated the way it made him feel… _less_. Harry knew some of what Malfoy had experienced during the war and understood how horrendous it was. Instead of letting it affect him, Malfoy had risen above it, made something of his life and used the experience to become a better person. He had fought against _everything_ and _everyone_ and came out on top.

It made Harry feel inadequate. Like he had peaked early and had been treading water since. He just felt like he was not quite _enough_.

Harry partly (well, mostly if he was being honest) blamed the Dursleys.  Harry was willing to bet the entire fortune packed away in the Black and Potter vaults that he wouldn’t be such a fucked up mess if they had treated him right.

Harry hated dating in wizarding London, everyone knew who he was and there was no moment of peace to be comfortable with anyone. The muggle world however, was a different story.  Harry loved going out to muggle pubs and clubs. He was anonymous there; a complete nobody. This had its own rewards, but it did have disadvantages, and Harry frequently went home alone. A quick snog and a fumble on the dancefloor were the most he could hope for on any given night. And although it was tiresome to constantly put himself out there, at least they weren’t only interested in him because of his fame or money.

\-----

  


In the days following _The Incident_ , Harry had wanked himself dry. Initially he imagined he was watching the scene again, with the perfect view of Malfoy’s pale arse cheeks flexing as he pounded into the other man, then his imagination supplied him with various little moments of Malfoy wanking knowing Harry was watching, then it morphed into something far more worrisome. Eventually Harry imagined _he_ was the one Malfoy had taken apart. Harry imagined being the man having the brick wall imprinted onto his face as Malfoy pounded into him, body destroyed from inside out.

And Harry knew he’d be destroyed by Malfoy. Harry couldn’t deny his feelings any longer. It was easy when he knew Malfoy didn’t go for ‘his sort’ but this had changed everything. Now that Harry knew that he could potentially have a chance, he couldn’t stop the images that came with it. And the hope. The hope was the worse fucking part. It was the hope what was going to destroy the tentative friendship they’d both tried so hard to grow over the years since the war.

The first time he ran into Malfoy after _The Incident_ was in the Ministry cafeteria. With his heart thumping in his chest and his mouth dry, he had attempted a conversation – but it had felt forced and ended in silence, until he had clumsily rushed off back to work under a flimsy pretext. He spent the next few hours replaying Malfoy’s every word, his tone and even his body language, until he was second guessing his entire reality.

The second time was at the usual Friday pub night, which Harry spent in utter terror. By some divine fuck up he was squeezed next to Malfoy in the usual shared booth. His thigh had snuggly rested against Malfoy’s the entire night, their feet occasionally grazing until he was driven completely crazy.

It had been total mind-fucking agony.

Harry had spent the night with a death grip on his beer, his other hand clutching his thigh and muscles so tense he had felt it for days afterwards. He hadn’t been as subtle about it as he’d originally thought, either. Hermione and Ron had started to give him worried looks, a raised eyebrow here or a downturned mouth there. A disappointed frown was even directed at him by one of them at some point, but Harry had started to ignore them, afraid they would see what was happening. Harry knew it wouldn’t take them long to figure it out. That, however, wasn’t the immediate problem. The problem was Malfoy.

Harry was starting to get the impression that Malfoy knew. He knew why Harry was awkward, could read him like a fucking book. The type they made for babies out of cardboard and picture flaps.

The next time they were in close proximity the Aurors had called Malfoy in to give some specialised information on dark artefacts. Malfoy and Harry had been reviewing some notes on a top priority case in one of the Ministries conference rooms, when the sudden awkwardness had set in again.  Harry had managed to keep conversation strictly business-like, and just when he was starting to feel comfortable, Malfoy casually dropped the name of the club, and asked if Harry had been before.

Harry naturally went bright fucking red, made some excuse that involved an urgent trip to the bathroom and hightailed it out of there as fast as fucking possible.

As Harry raced to the toilets he was struck with a sudden and terrifying thought – did Malfoy know Harry had seen it? Had seen _them_? Had stayed and watched? And _fuck it all_ had _enjoyed it_?

The very thought that Malfoy had continued to fuck into the other man knowing Harry was right behind him watching made Harry semi-hard, so he threw open the toilet door, cast the strongest locking spell he could, pushed down his pants and allowed his imagination to take over entirely.

Harry replayed the whole scene out in his head. He watched as Malfoy’s cock thrust in and out of the man bent over in front of him, pounding him into the wall. He thought back to the film of sweat lining Malfoy’s forehead, turning his white hair a darker shade of blonde. Harry remembered how Malfoy had picked up the pace, possessively adjusting his grip to pull the smaller man’s back into his chest, bringing their bodies together in a tight embrace and Harry’s mind gave the fuck up. He lost control over his inhibitions and, spitting on his fingers, he reached behind himself. Cock in one hand, he breached himself with the other as the mystery man of his memories changed. Brown hair darkened to black and lengthened to become a dark mess. Arms changed to darker skin tone and the grunts and moans became words and names… “Potter” whispered over and over again as Harry pictured his body being taken apart piece by piece, fucked into oblivion by Draco fucking Malfoy. He pressed his forehead against the cool cream plaster wall of the Ministry’s toilets, picturing long pale hands gripping his hips. Totally submerged in his fantasy and lost in overwhelming sensation, Harry’s whole reality became pleasure, desire and lust. With fingers thrusting into his arse and hand roughly pulling his cock, Harry came with a drawn-out groan. His hips faltered when he eventually found his release, his come smearing along the cream wall and his fingers stilling in his tender arse.

Breathing heavily, he continued to rest his forehead against the cool toilet wall, his heart rate slowing as he started to regain awareness of where he was. Harry had just had the most intense orgasm of his life and it was in a loo at work. Fucking great.

It look another 15 minutes of refreshing and cleaning spells for Harry to feel presentable enough to leave the toilets and return to work. Surely the odd looks from his co-workers were about the abnormally long time it took for him to do his business and not about the noises he had made when he fucked his hand and arse during work hours?

The wank had made no difference and gave no relief when he returned, now somehow even more flustered as he continued with his day, avoiding eye contact and attempting to make small talk with the very man his fantasy had revolved around.

\-----

He knew, on some level, that it couldn’t continue on as it was, awkward greeting followed by furious wank, followed by awkward pub night followed by furious wank. The strange mix of desire, shame and pure fucking _want_ was starting to overwhelm Harry’s already frayed nerves. He couldn’t concentrate on his work, couldn’t contribute anything substantial when meeting with his friends, and was as useful as a blob of goo when trying to play quidditch.

About 6 days after the toilet stunt at work, Harry did the unthinkable. He practised a little speech in his head, gathered as much courage as he could and confronted Malfoy.  

\-----

“Hey Malfoy!” Harry called out over the crowd in the Ministry’s atrium, ignoring the heads turning towards his raised voice as he hurried to catch up to the other man.

“What do you want Harry? I’m tired and I need to go shower. It’s been a shit day, your case is giving me a headache, so if you need to bitch and whine can we walk while we do this? I want to get out of here.” Even before he had finished, he had turned back around and started for the exits. Malfoy looked exhausted, he had grey smudges beneath his eyes and his work robes were creased.

“I was wondering if you were busy tonight?”

“I just told you, I’m off home. Why?” He somehow sounded more pissed off.

“Maybe we could grab something to eat?” Harry hesitated, surely his practiced speech would magically start any moment now? But for some reason everything he’d rehearsed completely disappeared, like some sort of attraction-induced amnesia.

Malfoy slowed briefly, turning back towards Harry with a sigh, “Actually, takeaway sounds good. What were you thinking?”

“No, I meant. You and me. Eat. Dinner?” Harry cringed, hardly believing the words that were coming out of his idiotic mouth, and felt his face flush.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, “Come on Potter, I know you have a brain inside that head of yours somewhere. I said we can grab something to eat.”

Clenching his fists, Harry tried again, “Stop being a twat for one second! I meant like a date, you fucking arse!”

Harry looked around, realising only too late the number of people around them, also heading home at the end of the day, and tried again a little quieter, “I was wondering if you would like to go on a date. With me. To dinner. Tonight?” Malfoy remained silent. Unable to handle the blank stare, Harry added, “Unless you’re too tired? Or don’t want to of course… I mean, it’s no problem if you don’t. Want to. That’s fine, I just thought I’d… ask…” Harry trailed off, biting his lip and feeling like the biggest tosser on the planet.

Malfoy continued to give him a blank look, blinking down at Harry with his mouth slightly open.

Harry felt his heart sink as the silence continued, the burning disappointment burrowing from his neck down into his chest. A trickle of doubt followed by a crashing embarrassment slammed into Harry. With a nod he said, in a stronger voice than he thought he was capable of, “ok, I think that’s pretty clear.”

Taking a deep breath, Harry turned away and walked swiftly towards the Floo. His eyes began to sting as the embarrassment and hurt burned him from the inside out.

“Harry – wait!” came Malfoy’s voice from behind him.

Harry stepped into the green fire, calling out his address as quickly as he could. He brought his hands up to cover the single tear rolling down his face.

  


\-----

As soon as Harry exited the Floo, he closed the connection and paced around his living room. His face still felt flushed, and the embarrassment and disappointment had buried deep into his chest. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the fire raging inside of him. His mind was racing and he felt so stupid. The last two weeks had been exhausting. He’d been living in and out of a fantasy, and it had well and truly consumed him.

Malfoy was like a burning star, and Harry felt like he had been circling around him for nearly his whole life. They had certainly been orbiting each other during Hogwarts, sending off sparks now and then. As adults, they had both tried so hard to form their fragile friendship, and after the night at the club Harry had been so hopeful of the possibility of more. Perhaps it had only been a figment of Harry’s imagination? Just another fantasy.  

He had turned and continued pacing the room, questioning whether a night out at the clubs would help to forget the overwhelming loneliness, when sudden pounding at the door disturbed him.

“What the fuck, Harry!?” Screamed at him from the other side of the door. He stopped in his tracks on recognising Malfoy’s voice. “I know you’re there so open the fucking door!”

Taking a deep breath, Harry tentatively obeyed and was nudged aside as Malfoy marched into his house barking, “We need to have a serious talk!”

Harry followed him into his front room, only to have Malfoy round on him with arms waving, “You’ve practically ignored me for the past few weeks, snubbed me on occasion, and now this?! Is this a joke to you Potter? It’s not a very funny one if it is, I know you’ve got a shit sense of humour sometimes, but this tops it-”

“I saw you!” Harry exploded, hands clenched at his sides, unable to keep quiet any longer with Malfoy screaming at him.

Eyebrows raised, Malfoy simply gave him a blank look.

“I saw you at the club. That night. I- I followed you.” Harry faulted, anger disappearing as quickly as it had appeared and crossing his arms over his chest, he continued quietly “I saw you.”

“You saw me.” Malfoy repeated slowly, shaking his head slowly, “you follow- oh.” Malfoy took a deep breath, visibly deflating, “You saw me with someone.”

“I, ah… watched,” Harry mumbled, turning his head away.

Looking down at Harry, Malfoy asked quietly, “you watched me?”

Harry could only nod, trying to hide his burning face. Malfoy moved closer until his feet were directly in front of Harry. Reaching out his hand he moved his chin up until Harry was forced to look directly up into his eyes. Embarrassment and shame boiling away inside of him, Harry tried to stare defiantly back.

“You don’t like me casually hooking up?” Malfoy searched his eyes, “Is that what this is about?”

Unable to answer, Harry shook his head, closing his eyes tightly.

“Then what?” Malfoy’s voice broke off with a huff. “Harry,” he continued quietly, “please, just tell me.”

“I… I liked it! Alright?” Harry spat, face screwed up.

“You liked it?” Malfoy repeated, voice tinged with surprise. “Harry…” Opening his eyes, Harry watched as Malfoy searched his face, “what did you like about it?” Malfoy whispered, “I’d wager it wasn’t the club, and it certainly can’t have been the alley that you liked. What was it then? Tell me Harry.”

“You,” Harry whispered, suddenly unable to keep his eyes off Malfoy’s face, so very close to his. “It was you. It’s always been you. You drive me bloody crazy and I never thought you’d be interested in someone like me.”

“Someone like you?”

“Oh, come off it you twat, I’m a short man-child and hardly much in the looks department. And you? You’re absolutely gorgeous and get dates with these gorgeous men and I _hate_ seeing you in that bloody paper and… I’m just me. No one ever wants me for _me_.” He finished quietly, looking up at Malfoy’s astonished face.

“Harry, do you not know how long I’ve wanted you for? How long I’ve…” Harry, heart pounding and butterflies swarming in his stomach, leant up, gently pressing his mouth against Malfoy’s. Closing his eyes, he could feel Malfoy’s firm, dry lips against his own. Bringing his shaking hands up to circle Malfoy’s neck, he deepened the kiss. It was so much softer, so much gentler than he had ever imagined.

He could feel Malfoy’s hands glide down his neck and over his shoulders, continuing down his arms and over his body until Malfoy held onto his hips, their bodies pressing flush against each other.

Breathing heavily, Malfoy whispered against his lips, “What do you want, Harry?”

“You. I want you.”

With a chuckle, Malfoy gripped Harry’s arse and lifted, encouraging Harry’s legs to wrap around his hips. Completely supporting his weight, Malfoy carried Harry to his bedroom.

  


\-----


End file.
